


The Montage

by jaicubed



Category: Youtubers
Genre: M/M, role-playing, zeath - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 12:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12189900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaicubed/pseuds/jaicubed
Summary: Two boys. A shaving mishap. And a very interesting night out.





	1. Chapter 1

“Don’t say a fucking thing,” Heath warned, pointing a finger at Zane. “This is your fault and you’re going to pay.”

Zane nearly had an aneurysm trying not to laugh. “Baby…it’s…it’s really not that bad.”

“I look like I’m fifteen goddamn years old, dickhead! What the fuck were you thinking?” Heath touched his face for the hundredth time in the last five minutes. He looked like he had lost a family member. “I don’t know how someone with a beard like yours could be so fucking bad at shaving.”

“I’m an enigma,” Zane replied, shrugging.

Heath groaned. “Zane, I look so fucking stupid. How am I going to go out in public?”

Zane rolled his eyes.  He pulled Heath to his chest, patting Heath’s bare face. “I think you look cute.”

“Like a cute little boy,” Heath complained, his voice muffled by Zane’s sweatshirt. 

“No, I don’t think so. You do look really different, though.” Zane pushed Heath back a bit and held him by the shoulders, taking a good look. Although he hadn’t intended to fuck up Heath’s beard, he wasn’t really sorry. Heath had a nice face. He liked that face. And a beard covered it up.

“You almost like a different person,” Zane mused. Heath huffed and wriggled out of his grasp, going to the fridge to grab a beer to drown his sorrows.

Zane admired Heath’s ass as he bent down to grab a Corona from the bottom shelf. Heath’s work-outs were paying off. He really did look different from the person he’d been six months ago.

It hit Zane as Heath stood up and glared at him, popping the cap off his beer and pouring it into a frosty glass.

“I have an idea!” Zane exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “I know exactly how I’m going to make this up to you.”

“Three blowjobs a day until my beard grows back?” Heath suggested. 

Zane ignored him, pulling out his phone, his thumbs moving wildly across the screen. “Yes. I know exactly what to do. Just… keep your schedule clear for tomorrow night.”

Heath was about to respond, but Zane pressed a quick kiss to his lips and grabbed his keys off the counter, shoving them in his back pocket. “I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t plan anything for tomorrow night.”

Heath watched Zane slam the apartment door behind him. He looked up at the ceiling and had one of his daily chats with God. “This is the moron you sent for me?”


	2. Chapter 2

Heath sat in the back of the Uber and tugged on the collar of his dress shirt. He hated Zane so much.

He had bugged Zane non-stop since he’d come home the evening before to tell him what he had planned. Zane wouldn’t budge, telling him it was a surprise.

When he woke up in the morning, Zane was gone. Heath texted him a bunch of times before he finally replied.

_I’ll see you tonight. Wait for my text._

“Goddammit, Zane, if you’re planning a prank, I’m going to kill you,” Heath grumbled to himself.

He did four loads of laundry (he really needed to force Zane to get clinical-strength deodorant), cleaned the bathroom, met Toddy for lunch, washed his car, and went grocery shopping, anxiously waiting for his phone to buzz in his back pocket.

When Zane hadn’t texted at 4pm, Heath threw up his hands. “Fuck this.” He went to the gym and worked himself to the bone, hoping he would be distracted. It sort of worked. 

He ate dinner and took a shower, and was about to call the police on Zane when his phone finally buzzed. Why was he so fucking nervous?

_There will be an Uber outside the building for you at 10:00. A black Lexus. Wear something nice._

God, that was sketchy as fuck. But he figured Zane would have murdered him by now, if he was planning on it. Although he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t murder Zane before the night was over.

Heath caught up on everyone’s vlogs and then spent thirty torturous minutes in his closet. What did “nice” mean? Did he have to wear a suit? He hated suits. He wish he knew where the fuck he was going.

He finally settled on an all-black outfit that would make David proud. Slacks that made his ass look good, a very expensive Brooks Brothers shirt, and shiny leather shoes.

He tried to do something with his hair, but he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror without his beard. It was clean and combed, what else did they want?

There was indeed a black Lexus idling outside of their building at 10pm on the dot. Heath’s stomach was doing somersaults, and he dropped his phone twice on the way outside. He hated surprises.

The driver of the Honda leaned out the window when he approached. “Heath?”

“Uh, yes,” Heath answered. He took a deep breath before climbing into the back seat. The driver looked at him in the rearview mirror. 

“The stuff on the seat is for you,” he said. Heath looked beside him. He hadn’t even noticed it when he’d gotten in. The driver pulled out onto the street. “Traffic’s bad. We’ll probably be there in about thirty minutes.”

“And where is that?” Heath asked. A million different locations crossed his mind in a flash, but for some reason he settled on the gym from Fight Club. Was he going to Fight Club?

“Can’t say,” the driver answered, turning up the radio. 

Zane had really chosen a friendly one.

Heath checked his phone to see if Zane had texted again, but of course he hadn’t.

He stared out the window for a few minutes, his knee jiggling, before he remembered the stuff on the seat beside him.

There was a black gift bag and two small black boxes. What was with the presents? He felt like some kind of kept woman. 

At least there weren’t roses or some shit.

He picked the bag up first, digging through the tissue paper until he found something. He pulled out some sort of fancy bottle, squinting to read the label in the dark car. 

That fucker.

It was large, very expensive bottle of Tom Ford aftershave.  _Aftershave_. Zane was really enjoying his fuck-up, wasn’t he?

Heath put some on even though he was annoyed. He was sort of a slut for luxury toiletries.

He picked up one of the small boxes next. He slipped off the top. There was a small white card inside with Zane’s handwriting on it.

_Was going to wait until your birthday, but…close enough. Love, Z._

Heath snorted. Zane loved giving presents and he could never wait until the actual occasion to do it. Heath’s birthday was two weeks away, which actually showed much better restraint than usual on Zane’s part.

Heath lifted the tissue paper. “Jesus, Zane,” he murmured. 

He hadn’t thought Zane had been paying any attention when he’d gawked over the sleek black watch in the store window, as Zane had been deep in a serious Candy Crush phase at the time. But there it was, the very same Gucci watch he’d fawned over. 

Heath took it out. It was ticking. He put it on, staring at it in awe for a full five minutes. Zane was playing  _real_  dirty.

Heath couldn’t imagine what was in the final box. A key to a brand new Lamborghini? Plane tickets to Bora Bora? Diamonds?

He took a deep breath and slid the top off. There was no note, no tissue paper, just one pack of bright, white Tic-Tacs.

“Asshole.” Heath shook his head but he couldn’t keep from smiling. When Heath had turned 20, Zane had showed up to hang out for his birthday. All he had given Heath was a single pack of Tic-Tacs. 

“I’m broke,” Zane had shrugged. 

Now they gave each other Tic-Tacs on every occasion, birthdays, Christmas, Flag Day, you name it. He popped a few into his mouth. He looked at his watch again. He was a little sorry he had called Zane a moron to God.

Before he knew it, the driver stopped and turned off the radio. Heath looked out the window. There were several high-end vehicles parked in front of them, bellmen scurrying to and fro. 

“This is it,” the driver said. He turned in his seat to face Heath. 

“ _Here_?” Heath asked, looking at the entrance to the building. A tall black woman in a fur coat stepped out, two men in suits behind her. He could see her diamonds sparkling from fifty feet away, until they disappeared into a sleek red Porsche.

He had heard about this hotel, and he definitely didn’t belong here. There was a reason they never went to Beverly Hills.

“Yes, here. The Montage.” 

Heath blinked at the driver, who looked at him bemusedly.

“Um, how much do I owe you?” Heath finally asked, reaching for his wallet.

“It’s been taken care of,” the driver said. “But before you go, take this.” He handed Heath a small slip of paper before hopping out of the car and opening Heath’s door.

Heath stuffed it in his pocket and grabbed his bags and boxes and then proceeded to nearly fall out of the Lexus. What a fucking klutz. What was he doing here?

“Thanks,” he said to the driver, who was waiting impatiently for him to get his shit together.

“No problem.” He slammed the door and hopped back in the vehicle, speeding off back into the night. Heath looked up, taking everything in. 

Heath nearly got run over by a long black limousine before he realized he should get out of the driveway. He swallowed and headed towards the entrance. 

A bellman held the door open for him. “Welcome to The Montage, sir.” 

Heath nodded awkwardly, stepping inside. His eyes widened. He’d never been in a hotel like this.

What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t stand in the lobby like an idiot for another second. Heath checked his phone for a text from Zane. Nothing. Then Heath remembered the slip of paper the driver had given him.

_Go to the bar and stay there. Order whatever you’d like. And turn off your phone._


	3. Chapter 3

Heath walked through the hotel, feeling more and more out of place. Everything looked expensive, and everyone he saw looked like a celebrity.

He found the bar and sat down at the very end. It wasn’t that busy. Despite it being peak drinking time in Los Angeles, it was a Tuesday, so he wasn’t that surprised.

He thought the instruction to turn off his phone sort of confirmed his murder theory, but he did it anyway. He hadn’t ended up at Fight Club, at least. 

He stowed it in his pocket just as the bartender appeared in front of him. Fuck, even the  _bartender_  was dressed nicer than he was. And he looked like a goddamn model.

“How are you this evening?” the bartender asked, giving Heath a dazzling smile. His teeth were really white.

“Um, great, thanks,” Heath answered slowly. He sounded like an idiot. Great.

“Wonderful. Can I get you something to drink?”

Alcohol had never seemed like a better idea in his entire life. He was about to combust.

“Yeah… I’d like a Jameson, neat, please.” Heath wasn’t really a whiskey drinker but he needed something a bit stronger than usual.

“Certainly. May I see your ID?” the bartender asked pleasantly, and Heath’s hand immediately went to his beardless chin. He must look like a ten-year-old.

“Yeah, sure,” Heath said, pulling out his wallet. The bartender took his ID and looked at it for what Heath thought was an excessive length of time. Way to rub it in.

The bartender finally gave it back and began preparing his drink. The first sip Heath took was heavenly. He needed to drink whiskey more often.

He turned and looked around the bar. There were a few tables inside, but there were more on the patio outside the bar which overlooked a garden. He didn’t see Zane at any of them. 

Heath took another sip and looked at his watch. It was stunning. Everything Zane had given him was amazing. This hotel was amazing. It was too much, but that was Zane. At least he could say the watch had been for his birthday, instead of a “I’m sorry I fucked up” present.

After twenty minutes, Heath was getting restless. He ordered another Jameson and stared at the bottles lining the back of the bar, counting all the ones he’d tried. He wished Zane would show up already. Or was that the hidden prank in all this? That Zane would never show up?

Before Heath could begin down that line of thinking, he heard someone sit on the stool next to him. Actually, he smelled them before he heard them. It was a musky, woodsy scent, definitely cologne, but not one that Heath had ever smelled before. It was magnificent. 

Heath’s eyes flicked to his left to discreetly check out the newcomer, and he almost spit out his drink.

It was definitely Zane, but not any version of Zane that Heath had ever seen.  _Ever_.

Zane looked like he had just stepped off the runway. His hair was combed back away from his face and parted on the side, gelled to perfection. He had just the right amount of stubble to look masculine as fuck, but still neat. 

God, his fucking suit. It was one of those slim fit Italian ones, black, buttoned at the waist. It looked  _expensive_. The crisp white shirt underneath was unbuttoned at the top, just like Heath liked. There was a black silk pocket square on the left breast of his jacket, to complement the impeccably shined leather of his wingtips. And of course, that gold Rolex that his dad had given him, glinting on his left wrist.

Heath could not believe that this was the same man he had been with 24 hours ago- the man who had gassed them out of their own room after OD’ing on Amy’s burritos and who had gone to bed in ripped, stain-covered sweatpants and a dirty t-shirt that smelled like gym sweat.

The bartender materialized in front of Zane, smiling a little bit wider than he had for Heath. He would have been offended, if he could have processed an emotion other than shock.

“How are you tonight, sir?”

“Fine, thanks,” Zane answered with a slight nod. His voice. It’d only been a day since he’d heard it, but Heath thought it sounded different… deeper, more authoritative.

“May I offer you a beverage?” The bartender’s eyes flicked to Zane’s Rolex. Heath could tell he was banking on a whole bottle of something strong and expensive.

“A whiskey sour would be great.” Heath had tried to stop staring when the bartender had appeared, but he couldn’t help himself. He snuck another glance at Zane. The guy hadn’t even turned his head yet. 

Actually, it was kind of weird. He hadn’t clapped Heath on the shoulder, or pecked him on the cheek, or said a simple hello when he’d sat down. It’s like he was pretending Heath didn’t exist. And even stranger, Heath felt like his tongue was totally tied.

“Of course, right away,” the bartender replied. Heath noticed that he didn’t ask Zane for  _his_  ID.

Zane finally turned towards Heath, giving him the full effect of his look. Heath took a sip of his drink so he didn’t proposition Zane right in the fucking bar.

Zane’s eyes swept up and down Heath’s body, and Heath suddenly felt self-conscious. Did he look nice enough? Compared to Zane, he looked like a fucking scrub.

But when Zane made eye contact, his gaze was flirtatious. Pleased.

“Zane Hijazi,” Zane said, holding out his hand. Heath shook it automatically, because that’s what you did when someone held out their hand, but it occurred to him as Zane held on to his hand longer than necessary that Zane had just  _introduced_  himself.

The bartender appeared with Zane’s drink. Zane nodded in thanks, holding it in his hand as he turned back to Heath. With the suit and the cocktail, he looked like James Bond. Like a totally different person.

 _Like a totally different person_. Zane had said  _he’d_  looked like a different person without his beard, right in the kitchen the day before. 

Heath’s eyes widened as he put the pieces together. 

They’d been drinking with Dom, Kian, and JC a few weeks ago, and naturally, sex came up. They’d discussed who’d ever done any role-playing in the bedroom, and Zane and Heath said they’d never have, with anyone. But Zane had mentioned that he’d try, winking at Heath.

This wasn’t a prank. This was a  _scene_. And right now, with Jameson in his belly and a very sexy boyfriend next to him, he was really into it.

“Heath Hussar,” Heath finally replied, before shyly looking away. Zane smirked, letting go of his hand.

“Is this your first time at The Montage?” Zane asked, taking a sip of his drink. Heath watched Zane swallow and lick his lips, totally transfixed.

“Yes,” Heath answered, his voice much more demure than usual. “You?”

Zane nodded. “I usually stay at the Chateau Marmont when I’m in LA, but I thought I’d be adventurous this trip.” 

“I don’t know if going from one four-star hotel to another is exactly  _adventurous_ ,” Heath quipped, surprising himself at how fast it rolled off his tongue.

Zane chuckled. “Touche.” He took another sip of his drink, and he didn’t take his eyes off Heath. 

“What brings you to LA?” Heath asked, feeling emboldened. He had to keep talking or he was going to swoon or something.

“Work, unfortunately. I’m only here for a few days before I have to fly back to New York.” Zane leaned closer, and that fucking cologne went straight to Heath’s dick.

“What…what do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer,” Zane answered. Heath raised an eyebrow. That is not what he had expected. Maybe actor, producer, or something like that. “Entertainment law. My firm has offices in LA and New York, so I’m always going back and forth.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Heath replied honestly. 

Zane shrugged. “It’s a living. What about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a chef.” Heath patted himself on the back for his quick response. “My friend and I just moved from Fort Lauderdale to open a restaurant with a mutual friend in West Hollywood. Unfortunately, my apartment isn’t quite ready yet.”

“I see.” Zane leaned even closer and Heath downed the rest of his Jameson in defense. 

“Would you like another? It’s on me,” Zane offered, nodding to Heath’s empty glass. 

“Maybe…maybe just a rum and coke, this time,” Heath replied. He did not want to ruin this night by getting toasted. 

Zane signaled the bartender and within seconds, Heath had a new drink. 

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that,” Heath said, giving Zane his best bedroom eyes.

“My pleasure. Cheers.” Zane held up his glass and they clinked.

Zane gestured towards the open doors across the room, letting in a unseasonably warm breeze. "Have you been out on the patio yet? The gardens are fantastic.”

“I haven’t,” Heath answered, his eyes glued to Zane’s hand fixing his collar.

Zane slid out of his bar stool, taking his drink in his left hand offering his right to Heath. “Come on. I’ll show you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Heath hesitated. In real life, he probably wouldn’t go off with a random person after a few minutes of chatting at the bar. Would he?

Zane raised an eyebrow, looking amused. He knew Heath was trying to play this part as well as he could.

“I don’t bite- I promise.” Zane winked.

Who was he kidding? Of course Heath would go off with a random person, if they looked like Zane did right now.

Heath took Zane’s hand and grabbed his drink. He followed Zane outside.

It was a gorgeous night. The perfect temperature, the moon bright and full. They passed tables of people chatting, laughing and drinking underneath a long trellis of vines and twinkling lights. 

Heath paused at the edge of the terrace, looking down over the balustrade. Below was a clear, sparkling swimming pool, surrounded by lounge chairs and greenery. And next to that, was the most astonishing thing. Rows upon rows of hedges, and in the middle, a fountain, with hundreds of fragrant, exotic flowers.

“It’s a labyrinth,” Zane said, grinning at Heath’s wide eyes. “Modeled after the ones in England.”

“Beverly Hills is so extra,” Heath said under his breath, but Zane heard and laughed.

“Too true.”

Heath and Zane descended the terrace staircase down to the pool. Heath looked back at the hotel. Christ, it was stunning from this vantage point. 

“Are you up for a challenge, Mr. Hussar?” Zane asked, the corners of his mouth turning up.

“Always, Mr. Hijazi,” Heath replied.

“I knew you would be.” Zane walked towards the labyrinth, Heath following close behind. Damn, Zane’s shoulders looked as wide as a football field in his jacket. 

Zane stopped in front of a hedge, twelve feet tall and so thick you couldn’t see through it at all. There was an archway cut into it, and Heath guessed this was the entrance to the labyrinth.

“Race you to the center of the maze,” Zane challenged, and Heath knew that face. His “I’m gonna kick your ass” face. 

“You’re on.” 

They left their drinks on a bench and stood side by side at the entrance, Zane facing the right path, and Heath the left.

“On three,” Zane said. “One, two…three!”

Heath shot off down the path. He tried to remember what he had seen when he was on the terrace, but it was no use. He was going to have to do this by trial and error. 

After several dead ends, Heath was getting frustrated. He knew it was stupid, but for some reason, he just had to prove to Mr. Zane Hijazi, entertainment lawyer, that he was worthy. He had to win.

Heath focused, his mind making a map of his path. He was determined as hell. And ten minutes later, he reached the center.

He pumped his fist. Zane wasn’t there.

He stood in front of the fountain, marveling at the delicately carved marble. He didn’t know how long he stood there, watching water pour from the nymph’s urn, soaking in the scent of the flowers. But when he finally turned away, Zane was standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, watching him.

The expression on Zane’s face made Heath’s stomach flip-flop. It was a little lust, but mostly fondness. Love.

“I won,” Heath declared, giving Zane a triumphant smile.

“Very well done, Mr. Hussar.” Zane stepped closer, and Heath resisted the urge to fully close the distance.

“What’s my prize?” Heath asked, crossing his arms.

“Anything you want.”

Heath raised an eyebrow. “Anything? That’s pretty generous for someone you just met.”

“I’m a generous guy.” Zane brushed a leaf off of Heath’s shirt, and Heath’s skin tingled where Zane had touched him.

“Oh yeah?” Heath was a bit embarrassed at how breathless he was.

“Yes, and I’ll prove it. Double or nothing.” Zane was really close now, so close that Heath could feel his body heat. “If you’re first back out of the maze- on the other side- I’ll give you double anything you want.”

“And if you win?” Heath asked lowly, his eyes flicking to Zane’s lips.

Zane slid a hand around Heath’s neck, brushing his thumb across his cheek. “You spend the night with me.”

Holy fuck. Zane had been working on his game.

Heath licked his lips. “You didn’t even ask me if I was single.”

Zane’s eyes gleamed with mirth. “Are you?”

Heath didn’t answer. He pulled away from Zane and started walking towards the path Zane had used. He looked over his shoulder. “Are we going to race or what?”

****

“No way,” Heath said breathlessly, his hands on his knees. Zane was similarly positioned, sucking in air.

Heath had raced down the path like he was being chased by a fucking tiger. He hadn’t felt this youthful, this goddamn  _exuberant_ , in a very long time. He was so in love and he was so ready to get double of anything he wanted- Zane, of course.

But when Heath exited the maze, Zane fell out of his side of the labyrinth at the same exact time, grinning ear to ear.

“Well, Mr. Hijazi?” Heath asked when they’d recovered, his mouth quirking up. “I’m not sure of what to do in the event of a tie in fake English maze racing.”

“Of all days to leave my fake English maze racing rule book at home,” Zane lamented, heaving an exaggerated sigh. 

"Such a shame,” Heath agreed, smirking. He retrieved their drinks from where they’d stowed them, pressing Zane’s into his hand. “But I think I have a solution.”

Heath downed his drink in one gulp before pressing himself into Zane’s chest, snaking an arm around the taller man’s neck. He could smell the whiskey on Zane’s breath, feel his stubble on his own smooth skin. 

“I don’t usually negotiate with strangers,” Heath began lowly, “-but since you’re a lawyer and all, I’ll make an exception.” Heath brushed his lips along Zane’s jaw until he reached his ear. He could feel the pulse in Zane’s throat quicken underneath his fingertips. 

“I spend the night with you… _and_  you give me double anything I want,” Heath whispered. Zane’s chest rumbled against his with a low growl. 

“And what do you want, Heath Hussar?” Zane murmured, his nails digging into Heath’s hip.

“All you got,” Heath breathed against Zane’s lips. 


End file.
